


Pumpernickel

by evvykurler



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas, Dogs, F/M, Holiday Season, Labrador - Freeform, Mention of break up, Moving to new city, Slow Burn, Winter, baker!peeta, cheese buns and lattes, dog park, dogowner!Katniss, dogowner!Peeta, everlark, mention of dog pound, no dogs harmed in this one, pug
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-02-26 12:08:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21849427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evvykurler/pseuds/evvykurler
Summary: After a breakup, Katniss moves to Victor City where she meets a cute pug and his very cute owner.
Relationships: Katniss Everdeen/Peeta Mellark
Comments: 154
Kudos: 173





	1. The Dog Park

Hunter’s paw prints are the first on the snowy path of the dog park, making a trail ahead of me as my boots crunch in the snow.

Hunter freezes mid-step, one paw hanging in the air as he stares at a squirrel. I roll my eyes.

“Sit, Hunter.”

He sits instantly and I give him a pat on the head. Morning sunlight catching in the icicles hanging from the trees, causing me to squint as I glance around. There’s no one else besides me and my black lab, and the silence almost feels like the fields back home. I lean down to unclip his leash from his collar.

My phone dings and I dig it out of my coat pocket, which is no small feat due to my thick mittens that were knit by my sister as a present last Christmas. I’m peering down to read the text when a flash of movement across the park distracts me. I see a man chasing a small dog, both of them kicking up snow as they hurtle across the field. The dog speeds towards us, and soon there’s a blur of cream-colored fur as it jumps up to lick Hunter on the snout.

The man stops short and catches his breath, doubling over with his hands on his knees. “I am,” he gasps, “so sorry.” He straightens and I stare up at him. Stray blond curls poke out from his dark blue beanie, and his stocky build is in direct contrast to the tiny dog at his feet.

“You should be careful. Not all dogs are friendly.” I cross my arms, but my point is slightly undercut by Hunter, who’s eagerly licking the little dog’s face.

The man nods emphatically. “You’re right. We just started obedience classes.” He looks down at the dogs. “So sorry to interrupt you.”

I shove my hands into my coat pockets. I remember how hard it was to train Hunter, even though he was pretty focused.  


“It’s okay,” I mumble.

He’s holding a coffee cup and a white paper bag in one hand, and the leash in the other. He introduces himself, pronouncing his name as “Peeta,” and I’m momentarily confused.  


“Like the bread?” I hazard.

One corner of his mouth lifts in a crooked smile. “Pretty much.”

“And who’s this?” I gesture down at his dog, which I realize now is a pug. “Croissant?”

I instantly feel like a moron, since I wasn’t really trying to make fun of his name. My name is unusual too, but he’s somehow managed to chuckle at my stupid joke.

“Actually, it’s Pumpernickel.” He takes a sip of his coffee.

My eyes widen, but I keep my mouth shut so I don’t say anything else accidentally offensive.

He raises an eyebrow, then leans close enough that I catch the distinct smell of doughnuts. “I’m joking,” he says, and it’s my turn to laugh. “His name is Kingsley.”

“Well, I’m Katniss, and this is Hunter. Nice to meet you.”

My eyes wander down to the pastry bag in his hand, and he catches my gaze.

“Do you want a doughnut?” Peeta proffers the bag at me. I spot one with maple glaze.

“I’m fine,” I say, although my mouth is watering already.

“Seriously, go ahead. I can’t finish these myself.” He smiles at me again, and I figure there’s no harm in taking one.

The pug is now sniffing at my boots. I’m glad to see Kingsley has a thick plaid coat on, because it’s freezing.

“We usually never see anyone here this early,” Peeta says, wrapping his scarf tighter around his neck.

“Are there a lot of parks in the area?”

“Lots of parks, but not many for dogs.” Peeta looks at me curiously. “Are you new to the city?”

I kick some snow off my boot. “Just moved. Hunter’s used to living on a farm, so I try to get him out as much as possible.” I run my mitten down Hunter’s back, brushing some of the snowflakes off his fur.

“Does Hunter miss it?” Peeta’s voice is quiet.

I swallow. “Yeah, but we’re adjusting.” I smile brightly and this seems to deflect any further questions.

Kingsley is staring up at me with his buggy pug eyes as I nibble on the doughnut, trying not to devour the whole thing.

“I’m not really a pug person, but he’s pretty cute.”

“He sure is, which is why I have to make sure he doesn’t get too fat.” Peeta scoops the pug up into his arms. “Who could resist this little guy?”

The sun is climbing steadily, and I know I have to leave soon. “Thanks for the doughnut, but I should get going for work.”

“Anytime,” Peeta says, setting Kingsley back on the ground. “Good to meet you, Katniss. Maybe I’ll see you around.”

“See you.” I give him a little wave.

“C’mon, Pumpernickel,” Peeta says, and I’m laughing as they walk away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you @butrfac14 for your tireless dedication to sending me pug photos for inspiration, and for your excellent beta work. 
> 
> Comments and kudos appreciated! Thanks for reading :)
> 
> The next chapter will be posted December 24.


	2. Hunter

Every morning I take Hunter for an early walk, and every morning he looks longingly at the dog park as we walk past. I reserve exploring the city for afternoon walks, and take Hunter to the park in the morning. He didn’t get much socialization on the farm, so I figure it’s good for him. 

Peeta’s always there with Kingsley, so it becomes routine for us to eat breakfast together while our dogs play. At first, Peeta kept bringing coffee and baked goods until I insisted that I at least bring the coffee. He’s particular about pastries, so he picks them up for us every day.

Today I find Peeta on our usual bench, with his pug running up to greet Hunter as soon as he sees us. As soon as I unclip Hunter’s leash, he licks Kingsley’s face. 

“How’s it going?” Peeta greets me as I sit beside him. I hand him a latte in exchange for some cheese buns, which are still warm and smell amazing. 

“Good.” I bite into the cheese bun, grateful for its warmth on this freezing morning. “How’s Pumpernickel doing?”

Peeta laughs. “You know, that name is growing on me. Maybe I’ll use it for the next pug.”

“You’d get another one?” I can’t help but ask. Back home, dogs mostly live outside, and are expected to take care of themselves while running around the fields. I’ve never heard of a farm pug.

“Oh yeah, pugs are very loyal. Lots of personality.” Peeta smiles. “And adorable.”

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, I guess,” I tease. He bumps his shoulder into mine. 

“Don’t pretend you don’t love Kingsley. Everyone does.” He beams at the pug, who is playing tug of war with Hunter over a toy duck. Hunter is surprisingly gentle and lets Kingsley get in a few pulls.

“Where’d you get Hunter?” Peeta asks.

“I got him a few years ago,” I say. “From the pound.” 

“He’s so well-trained.” Peeta munches thoughtfully on a cheese bun. “That’s must take some effort.”

“It did, but Gale was –” I break off, and clear my throat.

“Who’s Gale?” Peeta’s squinting at Kingsley across the field, but after a beat of silence he looks at me. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.” 

I watch the steam rise from my coffee. I realize I’ve managed not to think about Gale in these soft early mornings. Peeta looks away and I’m sure he’ll let the subject drop, but I don’t like the awkwardness that has risen between us as the silence stretches on. 

“It’s…ah. It’s okay,” I mumble. “He’s my ex. We got Hunter together.”

I clearly remember the day when we found Hunter. I’m pretty sure hell is like the dark, windowless room of the pound where all the dogs paced around in wire cages. Most of the dogs started barking as soon as we entered. I remember Gale’s hand on my back as we looked around.

“The pound had a lot of dogs. Most of them were pacing, but Hunter was lying on the floor of his cage. He barely lifted his head to look at us.”

I’m sure if I had been in his place, I would have done the same. Gale wanted to choose a dog with more energy, but I convinced him to give Hunter a chance.

The cold is making my nose run, so I sniff.

“We took him on a test walk. As soon as he was outside he was a different dog, sniffing everything and being friendly. Gale liked him because labs are good for retrieving game and clever enough to train.”  


I don’t add that when we took him back to the shelter, Hunter started crying at the door. 

Peeta silently hands me another cheese bun. I take a bite and look at Hunter, digging in the snow with Kingsley beside him. 

“I never told Gale this, but I would have taken Hunter home no matter what.”

Peeta’s staring at me, so I turn to face him. His eyes are warm. “He’s lucky to have you.”

I cough and look down at my coffee. “Well, I do what I can. He misses Gale, but he was my dog when we broke up, so…” I don’t think I’ve talked this much since I moved here. “Sorry to bore you with all of this,” I say. 

“It’s not boring,” Peeta says quickly. “Friends talk about this sort of stuff.”

“Friends?” I raise an eyebrow. “Is that what we are?”

“I guess you could call it dog buddies.” He laughs. “Or pet pals?”

“Let’s go with that,” I say, and he laughs again. 

Kingsley trots over and Peeta picks him up, warming Kingsley’s paws in his hands. Based on the light that’s filled the park, the early morning is slipping away. 

“Shouldn’t you get going?” I ask.

“Oh, I can be a little late.” Peeta’s always on time for his job at a bakery, so I’m surprised.

“Won’t the owner get mad?”

“Actually, the owner is pretty happy right now.” Peeta chuckles, and I lift an eyebrow. “It’s my place, so I can be a few minutes late.”

“It’s your bakery?” Peeta had told me he was a baker, but I didn’t know he owned the store. 

“Yeah, just started as the owner last year.”

“So you were getting these pastries for free the whole time?” I say. Peeta starts and looks at me, but when he sees my teasing smile he grins.

“Yes, that’s the main take-away here.” He stands up. “Same time tomorrow?”

“Sure.” I call for Hunter.

Peeta steps close, opening his arms for a hug. I’m surprised because he’s never hugged me before, but I squeeze him back, the fur lining on his coat tickling my chin.

“See you later, pet pal,” he says.

I watch his figure recede, and Hunter looks up at me with a wide dog smile. 

“Shut up,” I mutter, and we head home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you to @butrfac14, who is an encouraging, kind and wonderful beta. Thank you!!
> 
> I'm planning to post Chapter 3 on December 30th. Happy holidays, everyone! Kudos and comments always appreciated :)


	3. Pet Toys & More

One morning at the dog park, Peeta talks so much about the benefits of dog harnesses that I ask where he bought Kingsley’s. Peeta mentions he needs to make a trip to the pet store after work, and we make plans to meet up.

My new job at a coffee shop normally keeps me busy, but today the time drags as I pour latte after latte. I keep checking the clock until it mercifully hits three, then I’m out the door like a shot. On the way to the bakery, I brush the dog hair off the car seats and curse the fact that Hunter’s black hair stands out against the tan interior. 

Peeta’s bakery is tucked between a boutique store and candy shop. I’ve never been down this street before, although I must’ve walked by it a few times. The bakery storefront is ridiculously picturesque, with Christmas lights framing the front window and illuminating the snow on the window ledge.

I push open the door and the strong scent of gingerbread hits me. I’m not much of a baker, but the smell reminds me so much of home my heart aches. I look for Peeta but he’s nowhere to be seen. Instead, a woman with a nose piercing and a red pixie cut looks up from behind the counter. 

“I’m Katniss Everdeen, I’m –”

“I know who you are,” she says, waving her hand dismissively. “He told me you were going to be here this afternoon, like, ten times.”

I hear a clattering from behind a door that must lead to the kitchen. Peeta appears in the doorway, looking flushed and holding a tray of frosted rolls that look absolutely delicious. 

“Hey!” He sets the tray on the counter. “New recipe. Want to try one?”

I’m already reaching for a roll. I take a big bite and thank my lucky stars I made friends with a baker. 

“What do you think?” He looks at me curiously. 

“Yes,” I say. “It’s a yes on these.” Frosting melts on my tongue, and I can taste a hint of citrus underneath the cinnamon. 

“Don’t mind if I do,” says Jo, reaching past Peeta towards the tray. 

“Jo’s my biggest critic,” says Peeta, brushing flour off his apron. She shoves a cinnamon roll in her mouth with one hand and punches him on the shoulder with the other.

“With all the pretty girls in here, someone has to bring you down to earth.” 

I wouldn’t be surprised if there were a lot of girls that came by for Peeta. With the way these pastries taste, I think I might line up with them.

Peeta rolls his eyes. “I told you, Delly’s my cousin.” 

“Oh Peeta! You’re so wonderful! What amazing buns!” Jo says, in what must be an imitation of Delly. “It’s enough to make a girl sick.” She winks at me, but I have no idea how to respond. I’m glad when the door opens behind me and a customer distracts Jo.

“If you’re ready to leave, Jo’s got it covered.” Peeta unties his apron, carefully hanging it on a hook. He scoops two rolls into a white paper bag and hands it to me.

“For the road,” he says, smiling. With a wave at Jo, we head out the door. 

I climb into the driver’s seat as Peeta buckles his seatbelt. I switch on the radio for background music. Before I can start the car, Peeta catches my sleeve.

“What happened to your sweater?” 

I wish I’d picked something else to wear, but I didn’t have time to change before going to the bakery. One day after work I came home to find my favorite sweater torn and Hunter looking guiltily at me from the corner. I was so angry at Hunter. He never would’ve done something like that at home. 

“Hunter,” I respond. “He gets bored while I’m at work.” Peeta inspects the torn edges, turning a thread over in his fingers. 

“Kingsley used to do that too,” he says. “Still does, sometimes, but I’m getting better about putting my shoes away.” He grins at me, and I realize his hand is still at the edge of my sleeve. He’s waiting for some kind of response, but I just blink at him. His nose and ears are red from the cold, and this close I can see faint freckles sprinkled over his cheeks.

“Maybe they sell sweaters at the pet store,” he says, letting go of my sleeve, his hand falling in his lap.

“Maybe,” I say doubtfully. “But I bet they’re ugly.”

Peeta laughs. “The uglier the better. I’ll get one, too.”

When we arrive at Pet Toys & More, Peeta insists we grab a shopping cart. Somehow I end up with it when he gets distracted by the dog clothing section. All I need is a harness for Hunter, so I head down a different aisle, pushing the cart in front of me.

It takes me two minutes to locate a sturdy-looking harness and toss it into the cart. I’m wondering what’s keeping Peeta when he rounds the corner, his arms full of dog toys. He must’ve cleared out an entire aisle based on how many items are in his hands. 

“Doesn’t Kingsley have enough toys already?” I ask, my eyes wide. He grins. 

“Oh, these aren’t for him,” he says casually, heading towards the cart. “You don’t have nearly enough stuffed animals for Hunter.” 

“No, Peeta, no way.” I try to block his path, but he sidesteps me and dumps the entire armful into the cart.

“Think that’s enough?” He frowns, then heads for a display of rawhide bones. 

“Enough?” I snatch a toy and toss it at Peeta, who catches it easily.

“Hey! Not Mr. Penguin!” 

He looks so indignant I can’t help but laugh. I toss another toy at him, and another, and soon he’s launching them back into the cart. I manage to swat a few away, until stuffed ducks and rubber bones litter the aisle.

I’m wondering if a manager is going to get called when something soft bumps against my head.

“Watch it!” I exclaim. 

Peeta lowers his arm, which was poised to throw another toy. “Oops,” he says, not sounding sorry at all. “Every dog should have a nice stuffed penguin.” 

I throw my hands up in exasperation. “You’re impossible.” 

“How about we compromise?” He puts his hands up in surrender. “I’ll get just one toy for Hunter. Which one do you like?”

He comes to stand next to me, peering into the cart.

“He’s fine,” I protest. “I don’t want him to get spoiled like a certain pug I know.” 

“You’re right. It’s part of the plan.” He smiles. “Hunter’s too good of an influence. I need to bring him to Kingsley’s level.”

I could protest again, but Peeta’s got this look in his eyes like he’s walking out of the store with a toy no matter what.

“Fine.” I sigh dramatically.

“Excellent.” Peeta reaches past me, close enough that his hand brushes against mine, his fingers lingering longer than is strictly necessary. I try not to stare at his freckles again. 

“Mr. Penguin it is.”

Peeta puts the rest of the toys away, encouraging me to go ahead and check out. Back in the car, I turn the heater on full blast and pick him up at the curb. Peeta climbs in, a giant shopping bag on his lap.

“I have a confession to make,” he asks. “On a scale of 1 to 10, how attached were you to that penguin?” 

I side-eye him, turning down Merchant Street towards the bakery.

“Why?” 

“I may or may not have changed my mind at the last minute. I mean, I bought the penguin because it’s adorable, obviously, but I saw something else Hunter might like.”

“Does Kingsley get the penguin then?” I can’t help but smile.

“I can’t get him nothing. He would know and cry all day.”

“Fair enough.” 

I park close to the bakery door, and we rush inside before the cold can catch us. Jo must be in the back, because it’s just Peeta and me. In the warmth of the bakery, Peeta hands me the shopping bag.

“What is it?” At the bottom of the bag sits a bright blue rubber cone.

“Put peanut butter in that, and Hunter will be busy for hours.” He gives me a small smile. “It should help to keep him entertained while you’re at work.” 

I’ve heard of these before, but I didn’t need them back when Hunter could run through miles of fields all day. My throat tightens.

I carefully place the cone in my bag. “Thanks.” 

It’s not exactly what I want to say, or maybe it’s just that ‘thanks’ doesn’t seem to cut it. But I squeeze Peeta extra tightly when he gives me a goodbye hug, and when I look in the rearview mirror he’s standing outside of the bakery, watching me as I drive away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to butrfac14 for her excellent beta work and for the encouragement to keep writing. 
> 
> If you're enjoying it, drop me a line, send me a parachute. As always, thank you for reading!
> 
> Hoping to have the next chapter up on or before Jan 13, 2020. 
> 
> Happy New Year, everyone!


	4. The Painter

On a particularly dreary Wednesday morning, Hunter and I arrive at the dog park to find a miserable-looking Peeta on the bench, his hood up to protect him from the wind. It takes me a moment to locate Kingsley, whose head is peeking out of the front of Peeta’s jacket. Snow had been falling so thick that morning I’d debated not even coming, but Hunter’s pleading eyes got me to yank on my parka and heavy duty snow boots. 

Peeta waves when he sees us, and we trudge over to him.

“Good to see you,” he says, his voice muffled from behind the scarf. “Didn’t know if you were going to make it or not.”

“Neither did I.” I shove my gloved hands into my jacket pockets. “But I didn’t want Kingsley to be lonely.” 

The lower half of Peeta’s face is covered by a scarf, but I can see a smile reach his eyes. “My apartment is near the bakery. I was thinking we could go and warm up,” he says. “I should get Kingsley inside.” 

The cold is seeping through my snow boots and I’m beginning to worry about Hunter’s paws. I’m pretty sure Peeta could lead me into a dark cave if it means getting out of the snow-drenched park. I nod and Peeta leads the way, the four of us heading north with Kingsley bundled in Peeta’s arms. 

When we turn down the street of the bakery, Peeta leads us down an alley and up a flight up steps. It turns out his apartment is not only near the bakery, it’s on top of it, with the “Mellark’s Family Bakery” sign sitting just below his second floor windows. 

I have to admit - I’m curious to see what his apartment is like. 

Peeta holds Kingsley in one arm and grapples with his keys in the other. I stare at his front window, entranced by the twinkling lights, a mirror image of the bakery display below.

Peeta swings the door wide. “Come on in.”

Warmth instantly greets me as I step into a spacious living room. I smell cinnamon, but I can’t tell if it’s coming from the bakery or from his kitchen. Peeta switches on a gas fireplace, and blue flames leap up. He helps me out of my coat, his fingers brushing my neck. It’s such a quick gesture, but it sends a tingle across my skin. I shake my head to clear the thought.

Peeta sets two water bowls by the hearth. Kingsley runs for the water, while Hunter sniffs everything in sight. 

“Hot chocolate?” Peeta asks. My hair has been completely undone by the wind outside, and I quickly shake out my braid.

“That’d be great.” I smile and settle on a barstool as Peeta sets a pot on the stove. The kitchen is huge, with pans hanging from the ceiling and a large double burner stove. It occurs to me that Peeta must genuinely like baking if he has all of this stuff in his own home.

“Nice place,” I say. 

“Thank you.” I like watching him work, his movements quick and sure as he moves around the kitchen. I glance around curiously; there’s a small Christmas tree on the counter, and a Santa figurine on the kitchen shelf.

I attempt to smooth down my hair, but my fingers are frozen and I’m certain it just doesn’t look right. I glance down the hallway, but there are too many doors for me to guess which one is the bathroom. 

“Do you mind if I…” I gesture down the hallway.

“Of course, first door on the right.” 

I find the bathroom and re-braid my hair, my fingers fumbling. Peeta even has Christmas decorations in here, with a reindeer-patterned shower curtain. I haven’t bothered to decorate my apartment. Back home, my family would decorate our tree and Gale would always come over with a few siblings in tow to help. The fact that that won’t happen this year is something I really don’t want to think about, especially in Peeta’s cheerful apartment. I push the thought to the back of my mind.

I’m about to return to the kitchen when I see that the door across the hall is open, letting sunlight spill into the hallway. It looks like an office, but instead of a desk there are paint brushes in cans, and tarps covering the floor. At the end of the room is a large bay window that juts over a snowy field. An easel is set before the window, and on it is a painting of a place I instantly recognize.

“Katniss?” Peeta’s footsteps come down the hall. “Is everything-”

“You paint?” I ask, stepping into the room. “This is amazing!” I take a closer look at the painting of a snowy field and a park bench.

Peeta doesn’t say anything, just looks at me was an expression I can’t place. I feel my face heat, realizing that barging into his private office may not have been the best move.

“I shouldn’t have-”

“It’s all right.” He’s carrying a tray of pastries and hot chocolate, which he sets down on the bay window. “Should we sit?”

I sit cross-legged on the seat of the bay window across from him, and I reach for a mug.

“Sorry it’s a bit of a mess in here,” he says, running a hand through his hair.

“Sorry I barged in,” I say, smiling. “What else do you paint?”

“Kingsley, mostly,” he says casually, and I almost spit out my hot chocolate.

“No way.”

“Sometimes. When I can get him to be still.”

“So, never,” I say, earning a smile from him. “I didn’t know you were a painter. You should put some of your work in the bakery.”

He shrugs, looking out the window. “It’s just a hobby.”

“Maybe you could paint Hunter sometime,” I suggest, thinking of my empty apartment walls. “What’s your rate?”

He laughs, waving a hand. “You don’t have to pay me. I’ll take a photo of him before you leave for reference.”

“Okay.” There’s no way I’m accepting a gift like that for free, so I resolve to leave some large tips next time I’m at the bakery. I take a cookie from the tray and stare down at the snowy field as the winter sun slowly sinks towards the horizon.

I glance around the room for another painting. But all I can see are a stack of blank canvases leaning against the wall, contrasting with the floral wallpaper. Not only is the wallpaper floral, but the flowers are garish purple roses. It seems strange that Peeta would have a rose-patterned wallpaper in his bachelor apartment.

“Is that from the previous owners?” I gesture at the walls.

“It’s pretty awful, huh?” He glances around at it. “Yeah, you can blame my mom for that.” I raise an eyebrow and he smiles ruefully. “This was my parents’ place, before they moved out to retire. Then I moved in, so now I get to enjoy it.” 

I nod. I’m about to ask him whether his parents worked in the bakery, too, seeing as it’s called “Mellark’s Family Bakery,” but I’ve never seen another Mellark there except Peeta. But he changes the subject before I can ask. 

“Are you heading home for the holidays?” He brushes some crumbs off of his lap.

I shake my head. I haven’t really given it much thought. While I moved to the closest city that I could while still being a few hours away from home, Prim moved a flight away to pursue her career. I don’t know if she’ll be able to get time off from her shiny new job at a bank to come home, and I doubt my mom will be up to hosting me for long.

“I may visit my mom. She’s still in our hometown.” I shift uncomfortably. “The only other person there is Gale.”

Peeta nods. “What’s Gale up to these days?”

The snow outside is crisp, and I can feel the cold seep through the window against my back. I take a sip of hot chocolate and feel the warmth radiate down my throat. 

“I don’t really know.” Last I saw him, he’d been angrily pacing as I packed boxes in the farmhouse. “It didn’t really end well.”

Peeta looks thoughtful. “I wonder if it ever ends well.” He stops staring at the window and looks at me. 

It’s true. I’ve never heard anyone talk about a great break up. “And new beginnings are tough, too,” I add.

He smiles. “That’s true, but they can also be exciting.”

I sigh heavily. “What’s exciting about looking for new jobs, or moving to a city you barely know?” I shake my head. “It’s stressful, that’s what it is.”

“How about Hunter? When you got him, that must’ve been exciting.”

I think back, to his eyes staring up at me when I first put on his collar. “I’ll give you that.” I smile into my mug. “What about Kingsley? Was it exciting getting that bug-eyed mooch?”

“Oh, you know it was.” He laughs. “But it was daunting, too.”

I can’t imagine a pug, that pug, being daunting. “How so?”

“He was a bit…disruptive.” Peeta adjusts the blanket on his lap. “But I guess that was the point.”

I stay silent, watching his hands as Peeta plays with the trim on the edge of the blanket.

“When my parents retired, I took over the bakery. It wasn’t really a choice.” He sighs. “It was…a lot.” He doesn’t look up. “One day I saw a woman walking by the bakery with her dog. She stopped to pet it, and they both seemed so happy. The very next day I went out and got Kingsley.”

I think about this for a moment. “You got…an emotional support pug?”

Peeta laughs. “I never thought of it that way.” He looks up at me, and leans in. “Through everything, it’s nice to have something constant.” 

I think of how every day when I get home from work, Hunter greets me at the door like I’m the best thing he’s ever seen. I can’t imagine having moved here without him, and coming home to an empty apartment after the break up would have been that must worse. I wonder how it must’ve felt for Peeta, after working alongside his family all day, to move into their empty apartment, with a family bakery downstairs that no longer has a family. 

I have the wild urge to move closer to him, to grab his hand and hold it tight. I wouldn’t admit it out loud, but these talks with Peeta have also been constant, something that I could look forward to during these dismal days of winter. 

But I’m the first to look away. If I learned anything from Gale, even the most constant of people can just disappear. 

I place my empty mug back on the tray. When I glance back at Peeta, he’s no longer leaning towards me, just looking calmly out the window, the winter sunlight caught in his curls. When he catches me staring, he gives me a small smile.

“Should we get that photo of Hunter?” he asks.

I follow him back to the living room, where Kingsley is passed out on the floor and Hunter is curled up beside him. Peeta grabs his phone, but before he can take a photo Hunter walks towards me and licks my pants.

“Can you hold him?” he says. I can tell Hunter is excited and doesn’t want to lay down, but I get him to sit and I kneel beside him, patting his head as Peeta takes a few photos.

“Perfect.” He smiles. “That’ll work.” 

“Thank you,” I say. “Seriously, if there’s anything I can do to pay you back-”

“Don’t worry about it. It’ll be a nice change from painting Kingsley.” Kingsley raises his head when he hears his name, squinting his large eyes as he looks at Peeta before deciding to go back to his nap.

I snort. “Sure. Well, thanks. And thanks for the hot chocolate and…everything.” There’s more I want to say, but he’s moving towards the door and then I’m pulling on my coat and putting a leash on Hunter, and the next thing I know I'm back out in the snowy alley, cold biting at my face. 

I can’t deny that I want something more with Peeta, something more than pet pals and friendly walks in the park. But the last time I said yes to “more,” I lost my best friend. 

I walk quickly away from Peeta’s apartment, as the warmth is chased off my skin by the chilled air, and I wonder how long the snow will last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! As always, I appreciate every lovely comment and kudo. 
> 
> I’m hoping to have the next chapter up on Jan 27.
> 
> Thank you to my betas, butrfac14 and 2ee. Their insight is truly invaluable.


	5. Morning Shift

I can barely keep my eyes open as I brew yet another pot of coffee at work. It’s not even 5 a.m., but already this morning I’ve cursed my decision to volunteer for extra shifts a dozen times over.

Christmas music is blaring through the coffee shop’s loudspeakers. This is annoying on its own, but to make matters worse, someone is loudly humming along, completely off-key. I blearily peer over the counter and identify the culprit: an athletic man in fitted jogging pants, with shiny copper hair and a gym bag at his feet. He’s way too cheerful at this early hour, humming happily as he sits at a table with his espresso. I glare at him.

He catches my eye and holds my gaze. I duck my head down, then risk a glance at my shift supervisor, Annie, hoping that she didn’t see me glaring at a customer. She’s already pulled me off register duty due to my inability to be nice before 7 a.m.

But Annie isn’t looking at me. She’s staring past me at the humming customer, her mouth slightly open, cheeks flushed. I guess he’s attractive, but she’s staring at him like he’s a Greek god. I turn away so she can’t see me smile.

My phone buzzes, and I wonder if it’s a text from Peeta. I should finish making the coffee, but a quick glance won’t hurt. I quickly slide my phone out of my pocket. But instead of Peeta, the text is from my little sister.

_Call me?_

I feel a familiar guilt that’s been nagging at me ever since she tried to call last week, and the week before, but between moving and working, I haven’t found the energy to call her back. 

I hesitate before shoving the phone back in my pocket. Maybe I’ll call her on my break today, but I probably won’t have time. _Maybe tomorrow,_ I think, as Annie brushes by me.

“Could you help me restock the display?” Annie nods at the case of pre-packaged sandwiches and pastries in her hands.

“Okay,” I say. Filling the glass display case means we will be standing very close to Mr. Off-Key, which I’m sure isn’t a coincidence, judging by the number of times Annie’s glanced in his direction.

Annie opens the display and I hand her the sandwiches one by one.

“I meant to ask earlier,” she starts, sweeping her long ponytail over her shoulder. “Are you available to work tomorrow morning, too?” 

My heart sinks. I was planning on making it to the dog park tomorrow, but I know I need the hours. 

“Sure.” I try to ignore how tired I am, and how Hunter could really use some playtime with Kingsley, especially since I haven’t seen Peeta since visiting his apartment a week ago. I texted him to let him know I couldn’t make it to the park for a while, but besides a few texts, I haven’t heard much from him.

“Thanks,” Annie says, and gives me a small smile. “It gets so busy around the holidays.”

I muster a weak smile in return, hoping it doesn’t look too much like a grimace. 

“Any exciting plans for the weekend?” she asks.

My only plan consists of ignoring the fact that Christmas is next week. But this doesn’t seem right to say to Annie, who’s wearing a Santa sweater and snowflake earrings.

“Not really.” I shrug. “How about you?”

“I’m going to check out this new gym down on Tribute Lane,” she says, glancing again at the man, who’s seemingly oblivious to us.

I feel another text arrive, also from Prim:

_Call me? Please?_

The guilt intensifies, but I ignore it and hand Annie another sandwich. 

“I’m going to try the swim classes,” she continues, her voice a little louder than necessary. “Do you have a gym?”

“No,” I reply. “Sometimes I do archery, though.” At least, I used to. My bow is still with Gale, accidentally left behind in the rush when I moved out. “But I haven’t found anywhere to shoot around here yet.” ~~~~

“Fun!” she says, as I cover a yawn. “Maybe you could check out my gym. They don’t have archery, but they have lots of classes, so maybe there’s something similar.” She looks thoughtfully at the sandwich in her hand. “Ooh! Maybe there’s boxing!” 

I muffle a snort. Boxing isn’t the same as archery, and for a moment I imagine what it would be like if Gale were here with me. I picture the look he’d get on his face when he knew we were both thinking the same thing.

For a moment, I miss Gale so much my chest aches. 

I think I’m going to need to run to the bathroom so I don’t idiotically start crying in front of the customers, but mercifully the man Annie has been eyeing walks up to us.

“Excuse me,” he says, looking right at her. He’s quite handsome, with those flashing green eyes, I notice begrudgingly. Annie just stares at him.

My phone buzzes insistently, and Annie snaps out of her trance.

“Should you take that?” she asks.

“It’s fine,” I say, trying to ignore the buzzing and the picture of Prim’s face on the screen. My traitorous brain is now contemplating those early mornings shooting with Gale in the woods, and the ache in my chest intensifies.

“Why don’t you take your break?” she asks sweetly. I look at the customer and then at Annie’s pleading eyes. I really should talk to Prim, and maybe it’ll take my mind off of Gale.

“Thanks,” I say. I don’t want to go outside in the freezing cold to take the call, so I head behind the counter and towards the stockroom to answer it.

“Hey,” I start. “I’m at work, so-”

“Where the hell have you been?” Prim says. I can hear people murmuring in the background, and I wonder if she just got into work at the bank.

“Hello to you, too.” I laugh.

“I’m not kidding, you’d better start talking.” She sounds so annoyed, and I can picture exactly how she looks, with her nose wrinkled like when we used to fight over a toy as kids. “I called Mom and she says you’ve moved out of town? That you’re in Victor City now?”

I wince. It has been a long time since we last talked. I close the stockroom door quietly behind me, flicking on a light that sputters overhead.

“I needed a change,” I say defensively. She snorts.

“Since when? You eat the same thing for breakfast every day.”

“No, I don’t.” 

“What did you have this morning?” she asks. 

The same thing I had yesterday and the day before. But I’m not telling her that.

“Did you just call to annoy me?” I ask, irritated. 

“What are you doing in the city?” she shoots back.

“I’m working at a coffee shop.” 

“Okay, but what are you _doing_ in the city?” She waits for me to reply, but I let the silence stretch. “I thought you were happy on the farm.” 

I was happy on the farm. Or rather I was, and then I wasn’t anymore. I stare blankly at the coffee bags stacked haphazardly on the shelves opposite me. I cradle the phone between my head and my shoulder, and attempt to straighten them. 

“I was happy,” I say. “But I wanted something different.” 

Prim sighs. “How’s Hunter?” she asks, clearly trying a different tack. 

“He gets bored while I’m at work, but we’re managing. He got a new toy and that helped.”

“A toy?” 

I reach for a few more coffee bags. Whoever stocked them must’ve been half drunk, because the bags are crammed onto the shelves.

“Yeah, my friend Peeta and I –”

“Who’s Peeta?” Prim barely pauses for air before continuing. “Listen, what does Gale think of all this?”

I yank on a bag that’s wedged against the wall, and it triggers an avalanche. Half the coffee bags thud against the floor, and one splits open. All I was trying to do was organize everything, and now there’s beans all over the place. I feel frustration rise. 

“What was that sound?” she asks. “Are you still there?”

I don’t want to talk about Gale, I don’t even want to think about him, just like I don’t want to be standing in a cold stockroom, surrounded by a giant mess. But here I am. 

“We’re not…” I trail off, shutting my eyes so I don’t have to see the disaster I made. 

“Is he there? Can I speak to him?” Prim asks huffily.

“No. We’re not…He’s not here.” I normally could get past Prim, sidestep her questions, but my voice breaks and I know she hears it. 

There’s silence down the line. I can distantly hear customers laughing and talking outside, but it’s terribly quiet in the stockroom.

“Oh, Katniss.” I hear the sympathy in her voice, and I hate it. I hate telling her that it’s over, and I hate feeling like some kind of failure because it is.

“It’s for the best,” I say brusquely.

“What...” She pauses, takes a breath. “What happened? Do I need to kill him?”

I snort. The image of my sister, who would never hurt a fly, stalking up to Gale is completely ridiculous.

“It wasn’t him.” I stuff the spilled bags back on the shelves as best as I can with one hand. 

I think most girls from my hometown would agree with me that the problem was never with him. Who wouldn’t want to date Gale, with his broad shoulders and passionate speeches? Who wouldn’t be swept off their feet when after years of friendship, he poured his heart out at a picnic on my birthday? What woman wouldn’t be overjoyed at the summer evenings spent on quiet dates, and the long walks in the fall? 

I bite at a fingernail, and feel a familiar anger at myself. I fooled myself into thinking I would eventually feel the same as he did, and ended up hurting us both.

“It just was too much,” I say quietly. 

Prim hums. “I just thought things were going well.”

_Blindsided_ , was the way he put it.

“Yeah, well…” I shift my weight, wondering if my break is almost over. I wish Annie wasn’t so kind, and that she would yell at me to get to work, but the door stays closed. I find a broom and finally come to my senses, putting the phone on speaker so I can sweep up the beans.

“Things were going fast,” Prim says, tentatively, and there’s something in her tone. If I didn’t know Prim, I wouldn’t think anything of it, but I latch onto her hesitation, like Hunter with a treat.

“What does that mean?” 

“Well…” 

“Prim.” I stop sweeping.

“Remember the last time I was back home? Gale and I went out to lunch?”

I remember – the leaves had started to fall and I was so happy that Prim had scored vacation to visit our farm. When Prim and Gale went for lunch without me, I was jealous. But they were both in such a good mood when they returned that my jealousy disappeared, and Prim and I stayed up to watch romantic comedies all night.

“He asked me for…” She coughs. “I don’t know if I should-”

“What did he ask?” I use my no-nonsense tone, which was always reserved for when Mom was out of action, and I had to be the mom for Prim.

“If he could…you know.” She takes a deep breath. “He showed me the ring.” 

The broom falls out of my grasp, clattering to the floor. I don’t know which hits me first, the anger or the guilt. Or perhaps it is the grief that sits like a stone in my chest, weighing me down. I sink down to the floor, letting the cool tile catch me.

I wonder if there was some part of me that knew this was coming, back when I lived with him. It was in the way he looked at me sometimes, when he came in from the fields and crushed me to him in a hug, and his laughter would ring through the house as I would tell him about my day, or Hunter, or the newest breed of chickens I wanted to buy. I just thought that his joy would be enough for both of us.

“Well, you know Gale...” Prim keeps talking, but all I hear is a roar, like a wall of white noise.

“I should get going,” I say.

“All right,” she says softly. “But I wanted to ask, what are you doing for Christmas? Are you coming home?”

There’s no way I’m coming home, but I try to soften the blow. “I don’t think so.”

“Maybe after Christmas? I’ll be back in town, and I know Mom would love to see you.”

“Not this year.” I can’t face going back and running into Gale. I can’t face all the friends and neighbors who were probably planning on getting a wedding invitation from us.

“Okay,” she says, and I hear her voice tremble, making me want to book a ticket home. Of course I want to see Prim and it’s been so long since we were last in the same place. But I just can’t go back.

“I’ll call you on Christmas, okay?” I say.

She tells me that I can call her anytime. I know I’ll never interrupt her day with my problems, but I agree anyway.

When we hang up, I bolt out of the stockroom, and get lost in the day before I can think about Gale, or home, or Christmas anymore. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the wonderful comments and kudos on this story! It makes my day. :D
> 
> My betas, endlessnightlock and 2ee, are endlessly helpful and encouraging. They both deserve pugs for all of their efforts. ;)
> 
> Hoping to have the next chapter up on February 10th.


	6. The Offer

Light is just peeking under my bedroom curtains when I wake. I tuck my quilt over my head, hoping to delay the cold trek to work by stealing a few more minutes in my warm cocoon. I’m about to fall back asleep when I remember that I don’t have to go into work until hours and hours from now.

I can finally make it to the dog park.

I roll out of bed, grabbing my parka from the mostly empty closet. I’ve barely unpacked from the move, my bedroom a mess of half-opened cardboard boxes and clothes scattered on the floor. I riffle through my bureau and manage to find a lonely pair of wool socks, then kneel beside a box, digging through it for a scarf.

“Hunter!” I call.

He comes bounding into my room in a flash of chocolate brown fur, putting his paws on my knees as he licks my face. He’s a slobbering, happy mess, and I fend him off, laughing.

We get ready quickly. As we leave the apartment, I think about texting Peeta, but I figure we’ll just surprise him when we arrive.

It’s a few days before Christmas, and the streets are lined with sparkling lights as we walk towards the park. Hunter wags his tail as soon as he realizes where we’re going, and I pick up the pace.

But when we arrive, the snow-laden field is empty. We trudge around the park, Hunter carefully sniffing the path. Someone enters the other side of the park with a small dog, but instead of Peeta it’s a woman in a bright pink coat with a miniature poodle. After twenty minutes I give up any hope that Peeta will be here. Even Hunter’s head hangs low as we turn towards home.

Back at my apartment, I’ve just put the key in the lock when my phone vibrates and I find a message from Peeta.

_Slammed with work today. Come by the bakery?_

He must have a custom emoji texting app, because the text is followed by emoticons of baguettes, cookies and croissants. It’s so ridiculous it makes me smile, while my stomach rumbles at the thought of the warm bread in the bakery. I leave Hunter inside the apartment, then head for the bakery.

Cold wind is nipping at my nose and ears as I stride towards the bakery. I wonder if Peeta will be free the next few days for a walk with the dogs. It’s getting lonely walking Hunter without him.

I hear the bakery before I see it. There’s a line out the door, with parents waiting for their Christmas cookies while children run around and pelt each other with snowballs. Through the window I see it’s a madhouse, with people packed inside to escape the cold. Peeta is ringing up customers while Jo is like a whirlwind behind him, shoveling pastries into paper bags. I watch Peeta patiently wait as an old lady counts out her change, and he smiles when she places it in his palm, not rushing her despite the long line.

I’m wondering if I should even interrupt when they’re clearly busy, but Peeta sees me when the old lady turns away, and he waves with such energy that some people turn to look. I ignore the rising blush on my face and push my way inside, making a beeline for the counter.

“You made it!” Peeta smiles and hands the register over to Jo when I get to the counter. “Can I get you something?”

“Is it always this insane at this time of year?” I ask. Peeta has never skipped the dog park before, but I guess the holidays must be crazy for him. His hair is a mess of curls that stick up in every direction, and his eyes are tired. There’s no way he’s been getting enough sleep lately.

“It’s even worse this year,” he says, leaning in so we can hear each other over the crowd. He selects a cinnamon bun from the pastry case and hands it to me.

“It’s madness,” I say, eyeing the line. “Actually, I was wondering, if you’re closed over Christmas…”

My nerve fails me when I catch the way he’s looking at me intently, his full attention on me like I’m the most important customer in the shop. No wonder his bakery is so popular, if he can make people feel like that. I clear my throat.

“I was thinking, maybe we could take the dogs for a walk on Christmas? Or Christmas Eve or something, I mean you’re probably busy…”

He smiles ruefully.

“I would, but I’m going out of town for Christmas.”

The bakery bell chimes as more customers file in, a cool breeze pushing in through the open doorway. I let the chilled air distract me from the hollowness in my chest as I realize these next lonely days will be even more empty. There was some part of me clinging to the idea that I would see him at the dog park on Christmas. Of course he has somewhere to go. Even if he were in town, I don't know why I assumed he would spend time on Christmas with me.

“When are you leaving?” I ask.

“Tomorrow.” He grimaces.

I tear off a piece of the bun, but my appetite has disappeared.

“I have a few chores to finish before I leave, but I wanted to give you something,” he says, reaching below the counter.

I should’ve known. I kick myself for not thinking of getting him a present.

“Peeta,” I start to protest, but my words are stolen by the comforting aroma of herbs and cheese that wafts out of the large pastry box that he sets in front of me. The pasty box is a soft shade of orange, tied with a giant white ribbon, and I peek under the lid to find an assortment of delicious-looking savory buns.

“Merry Christmas!” he says, smiling brightly.

“I really couldn't,” I say, wishing the buns didn’t smell so delicious. “I don’t have anything for you.” I can feel heat rising at my throat.

“It’s no problem,” he says. “If you haven’t noticed, I love baking. So really, you’re doing me a favor by taking these off my hands.”

“It wouldn’t be fair,” I say, crossing my arms.

“Consider it a welcome to town gift, then,” he says quickly. “To say that I’m glad you’re here.”

It takes a moment for the words to resonate, and I feel something warm deep in my chest, like sunshine on a spring day.

I’m about to argue with him but his blue eyes are earnest, and my resolve vanishes. It’s entirely too kind of him, when he’s so busy with everything else, to spend this time on me. Before I can express how much it means, Jo abandons the long line of customers at the register and saunters towards us.

“What did you get?” Her pixie cut has been dyed a dark green, and I’ve never seen that much sparkly eyeshadow on someone. She drags my box towards her, eyebrows lifting when she opens the lid. “Remember, sharing is caring.”

I don’t respond, wishing she would go away and leave me and Peeta alone. I’m resisting the urge to grab the box back when Peeta laughs.

“No stealing,” he says to her.

“I wouldn’t want to end up on the naughty list,” she says, smiling lasciviously at him. My toes clench in my boots, and I’m sure I can’t hide the scowl on my face. But instead of Jo wilting under my glare, her smile grows wider.

But it’s wasted on Peeta, who hauls out another pastry box.

“Merry Christmas, Jo.”

She genuinely smiles when she lifts the lid, and I catch a glimpse of snow-white cream puffs, glazed donuts, and dark chocolate eclairs. She places an easy hand on Peeta’s shoulder.

“Awesome.” She draws him towards her, giving him a loud kiss on the cheek. Peeta flushes.

I feel like punching something. She’s just smiling and taking her sweet time, and I really hate the way she’s looking at him.

“I love the pastries,” I burst out, and they both turn to look at me. “Thank you.”

I reach across the counter to give Peeta a hug, and it takes him a second to realize what I’m trying to do before he steps forward. It’s awkward because we can barely reach each other, the wood counter between us, but when it’s over he’s smiling at me and I can’t help but smile back.

“It’s really-” he breaks off, glancing down at his phone. “Sorry, just a second.” He looks apologetically at me before heading towards the back room.

There’s a loud cough, and I nearly jump when I realize Jo is still there.

“Well.” Jo smiles, looking entirely too pleased with herself. “That answers that.”

Before I can question her, a customer calls her. She winks before breezily walking away, and I have to say I’m glad to see her leave.

I shake my head, admonishing myself for being so jealous. But the image of Jo’s fingers curling into Peeta’s shirt rises in my mind and makes me angry all over again.

A lady holding a cake bumps into me, and I steady myself against the counter. I should probably head out given everything Peeta has to deal with today, but I stay rooted in my spot, unwilling to leave just yet. Besides, it’s not like I have anywhere to go.

I hadn't signed up to work on Christmas, but now I’m thinking of calling Annie to see if I can get some more shifts. The last thing I want is to spend Christmas alone, with nothing to do but stare at my bare apartment walls.

Peeta comes back a moment later, looking even more hassled.

“Everything all right?” I ask.

“My dog sitter just cancelled.” He pushes a hand through his already-mussed hair.

Curiosity overtakes me.

“You’re not taking Kingsley? Where are you going?

“Believe me, I would rather stay here with him.” He shakes his head. “Unfortunately, my mother’s house has a ‘no dogs allowed’ policy.”

There’s a sadness to his eyes I haven’t seen before, and I feel indignant on his behalf. Spending Christmas Day without Hunter is not something I even want to imagine.

“Why don’t I take Kingsley?” I say, before I can stop myself.

I mean, how much trouble can one pug cause?

His eyes widen, and I can tell he’s thinking it over, but then he shakes his head. “I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“It’s not a big deal.” I shrug. “Maybe he’ll keep Hunter entertained.”

“Kingsley can be a handful,” he protests. “I wouldn’t want to interrupt your holiday.”

“Just let me take the pug, Peeta,” I say firmly. He’s about to argue when Jo motions him  
from the register, pointing at the large crowd of people waiting to be served. I can tell he’s weighing whether to get on with his morning or argue with me. I cross my arms for good measure.

“Okay.” He holds up his hands and I smile.

“Just name your price. This is a huge help.” His eyes are earnest.

“It’s no problem.” I tear off a piece of a savory bun from the selection in my box. I taste an explosion of herbs and a creamy goat cheese filling, and the fresh ingredients remind me of home.

“I think these are even better than the cinnamon rolls,” I say. “You can pay me in whatever these are.”

“You got it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Endlessnightlock (butrfac14) and 2ee beta’d this chapter in absolute record time. This story truly would not be the same without their generous help. 
> 
> The next chapter is already written and will be up by Feb 24. Thank you all for reading!! Your comments and kudos are as amazing as a thousand pug kisses :D


	7. Kingsley

When Peeta drops off Kingsley the next morning, he also gives me a backpack of toys, two bags of dog treats, and a dog bed big enough to fit Hunter. Peeta sits on my living room floor, carefully handing Kingsley’s toys to me while explaining which ones are his favorite. I shove the toys onto the shelves of my empty bookcase, and half-listen to the explanation, more interested in the way our fingers brush over each toy. Besides, it can’t be that hard to take care of one pug.

I attempted to clean the apartment before Peeta arrived, which consisted of pushing unopened moving boxes against the bare white walls. It’s a good thing I haven’t unpacked yet, because Kingsley’s toys take up a lot of space, and his giant bed in front of the fireplace makes the living room look a little less empty.

Peeta must be going directly to see his parents, because his hair is clean and shiny, and his collared shirt stretches just right across his broad shoulders. I’m wondering how he keeps the dog hair off of his clothes when I’m broken out of my reverie by Peeta, who’s managed to catch Kingsley and is peering at the pug’s face.

“I just cleaned his face wrinkles, so you won’t have to do that-”

“Clean his wrinkles?” I look at him in horror. “What does that even mean?”

“Pugs can get infections if their wrinkles aren’t kept clean,” he says matter-of-factly. “But don’t worry, you don’t have to clean them.” 

I glance at Hunter, whose face is mercifully wrinkle-free. “I’ve never been so happy to have a lab.”

Peeta chuckles. “We’ll see about that. By the time I get back, I bet you’ll want a pug, too.” 

He gives Kingsley a pat on the head, then rises from the floor. 

“Any big plans for Christmas?”

“Not really,” I say. “Just…” I gesture towards the dogs, who are currently playing tug of war with Kingsley’s favorite stuffed penguin.

“Are you seeing your family?” he asks, winding his red scarf around his neck. 

“No. Just me and the dogs,” I reply. 

“Oh.” Peeta looks worried. “I didn’t realize you were by yourself over Christmas.” Irritation scratches at my skin. I’m spending it alone by choice, and thinking about why I made that choice gets me even more irritated.

“I won’t be by myself,” I say defensively. 

Peeta looks away for a second, red color blooming over his cheeks.

“Of course not,” he says quickly. I twist the end of my braid around my hand, wishing I hadn’t snapped at him. But I didn’t like the pity in his eyes.

“I didn’t mean…” I let go of my braid. “Holiday stress,” I add, trying for a smile that seems fake even to me. “It’s just I’m seeing a friend tomorrow. Christmas Eve dinner,” I lie. 

“Fun,” he says diplomatically. I wonder if he knows I’m lying, but his face betrays nothing. 

Kingsley, having lost the tug of war with Hunter is now whining at my feet. I bend down to scratch his head.

“I’m sure you’ll have your hands full with these two,” Peeta says, smiling at Kingsley. 

“Definitely,” I agree. 

“I’d better get going.” Peeta slings his duffle bag slung over his shoulder. 

“How long will it take you to get to your parents’ house?” I ask.

“Just a few hours.” 

Kingsley moves so he’s actually lying on my feet, which is slowly cutting off circulation, but I don’t shift him. 

“Right,” I say. “How’s traffic?”

“Not too bad,” he says. I’m certain the highway will be clogged soon with holiday travelers, but Peeta doesn’t move. 

A dog hair has strayed onto Peeta’s otherwise spotless shirt. I reach out to carefully brush away the strand, feeling Peeta’s chest, warm and firm beneath my fingers. I drop my hand when I realize what I’m doing, looking up to find his blue eyes staring right at me, his expression thoughtful.

I step back, which earns me a whine from Kingsley.

“Have a good break,” I mumble.

“Thanks again. I really owe you one,” he says.

“No, you don’t,” I say. “Consider this your Christmas present.”

“It’s a pretty good present.”

He leans in to hug me, but it’s over too soon, and all that’s left after he disappears down the hallway is his lingering scent of cinnamon and orange.

Well, that’s not exactly true. What’s left is his scent, and one pug. I turn to see buggy pug eyes staring up at me. Kingsley’s pink tongue darts out to lick his nose. 

“I’m not going to be as nice to you as Peeta is,” I warn. Kingsley blinks, then licks my pants. “Okay, okay.” I scoop him up. “Let’s get you settled in.”

I don’t have much time after Peeta leaves before I have to get ready for work. I fill the food bowls, and supervise to make sure Kingsley doesn’t make short work of Hunter’s breakfast. I give them both pats on the head before I grab my coat. 

Hunter looks at me balefully before I shut the door, but at least today he’ll have Kingsley. 

At the coffee shop, the day drags by. Annie refuses to let me take more shifts over Christmas, saying I’ve worked hard enough. Tomorrow’s Christmas Eve, and I can see the hours of the next few days stretching before me, empty and quiet. I haven’t made any other friends in this city except for Peeta. I know it's silly to miss him already, but I can't help but feel lonely when I walk home by myself.

When I get home from work, both dogs are waiting by the door. Hunter jumps up to greet me, and Kingsley follows, excitedly running between me and Hunter, attempting to lick both of us. 

“Okay, boys,” I say, leaning down and patting them both. 

I search my cupboards for a saucepan to start making dinner, but after the third empty cupboard I give up, realizing it must still be in one of the unopened moving boxes. I grab a frozen dinner out of the freezer and start punching holes in the plastic. When I turn towards the microwave, I hear a small yelp.

“Kingsley!” He must've been right behind me. He stares up at me, wagging his tail. He follows me as I move about the kitchen. 

Once my dinner is ready I settle on the couch, Kingsley trotting close behind. Hunter is playing with his cone toy on the rug, but instead of joining him, Kingsley jumps on the couch and settles in beside me, his head resting on my knee. I think about moving him to the floor, but he’s very warm and I’m very tired, so I let him stay, and the night passes quietly.

___________________ 

On the morning of Christmas Eve, I wake before the sun. The apartment complex is silent, without the usual chatter in the hallways or footsteps from the floor above. 

I stare at the ceiling, imagining I’m the only person left in the whole complex. I could take the dogs on an early walk, but getting out of bed seems impossible. I shut my eyes. 

The sun’s out when I’m awoken by a weight on my chest. I blink my eyes open to find Kingsley, his hot breath on my face. 

“Hey!” I pick him up, his little pug legs dangling in the air, and set him down on the floor. I’ve just flopped back onto the pillows when he jumps back onto the bed. 

“Kingsley!”

He sits back down on my chest, his nose almost touching mine. I glare at him. He pants at me, then slowly reaches out his tongue to lick my right on the nose.

“Argh!” I swipe the slobber off my face. I do not have the energy for this; maybe he’ll leave me alone if I feed him. 

“You’re a little monster, you know that?” I say grumpily, swinging my legs off the bed. Kinglsey just looks happy to have attention. 

I clumsily refill the dog bowls. On the kitchen counter sits the box of treats from Peeta. I almost grab a bun, but I’m not really hungry. I stumble back to bed, promising myself that I’ll get up to face the day eventually. Just not right now. 

Before I’ve even made it under the covers, Hunter and Kingsley have jumped onto the bed with me. Normally I don’t let Hunter sleep on the bed, but this time I make an exception. 

It’s late morning when I’m awoken by Hunter barking incessantly at a squirrel. This gets Kingsley riled up, so that they’re both standing on my bed, barking at my window. I sigh, checking my phone to find Prim has texted me five times.

 _Merry Christmas Eve!_ The text is followed by a selfie of Prim posing in this dorky Christmas sweater with ducks in Santa hats that she bought last year. She insisted on buying one for me, too. 

_I can’t believe you still have that sweater_ I write back.

 _It’s the best!_ She replies. _Where’s yours?_

I smile despite myself. I’m sure it’s around here somewhere.

 _I’ll find it_.

I coax the dogs off the bed before searching the boxes that clutter the bedroom floor. But the sweater isn’t in my room, even after I check the third time. I pad out to the living room and kneel in front of the largest box, running my hand over the clear tape. 

Hunter sits next to me, interested in what I’m doing, his brown eyes sweet. I pet his soft head, and wonder if he remembers the farm, let alone misses it. It can’t be easy for him, being cooped up in the apartment, alone most of the time. A lump forms in my throat and it’s getting hard to swallow. I’m considering diving back into bed when I hear what sounds like sandpaper against the wall, and I spin to see Kingsley on the other side of me, licking a cardboard box.

“What are you doing?” He’s leaving gross wet marks on the box. I shoo him away, then sink back down onto the carpet. It’s time I take the dogs out, anyway, but I look back longingly at my bedroom door. 

I hear the scraping sound of Kingsley’s tongue again.

“Stop it!” I pick him up, depositing him on the couch.

I know I should walk the dogs, eat breakfast, and get ready for the day, but a few more minutes in bed won’t hurt. I shut my bedroom and dive back under my warm covers. I'll take the dogs out later, I promise myself. I'll eat later, too. I'm about to drift off to sleep again when I hear a scraping sound coming from the living room. 

“Argh!”

I storm out of my bedroom to find Kingsley sitting defiantly by the boxes. Maybe if I tire him out, he’ll calm down. I throw a parka over my flannel pajamas and grab the dog leashes. 

At the sight of the leashes, both dogs run towards me. 

“Sit,” I command. Hunter sits instantly. Kingsley races away, circling around Hunter and me, his nails clicking against the wood floor. I sigh.

I gently buckle Hunter into his harness. I wait until Kingsley is within reach before scooping him up. I finally manhandle him into his tiny red coat, and then we’re out the door. 

The wind snaps at my face. Kingsley has a coat on, but I’m worried it’s not enough. I stick to the shoveled sidewalks of the city center. The dogs keep tangling their leashes as they dart in front of each other, but after a few minutes Kingsley settles down, walking as close as possible to my side. Ten minutes into the walk, I give up, holding Kingsley with one arm because I’m worried about giving him back to Peeta with frostbite.

When we get back to the apartment, Hunter settles on the rug, his head resting on his paws. Kingsley beelines across the floor and immediately settles in front of the one box he hasn’t licked. As his wet tongue scrapes up the side of the box, I stifle a scream.

I cannot for the life of me figure out what he’s doing. Maybe there’s food inside the boxes? But no, I didn’t pack anything perishable. There’s only one person who might have any idea what’s going on. 

I scoop up Kingsley, grab my phone, and dial Peeta’s number.

“Katniss!” I feel the tension drain from my shoulders at hearing Peeta’s warm voice. “Hey! I’m so glad you called.”

There’s chatter in the background, then the sound of a door shutting, and the noise lessens. I feel bad for interrupting.

“Hey,” I say. Kingsley is trying to wriggle out of my hands, but I tighten my hold.

“Is everything all right?”

“Sorry to disturb you but Kingsley-” He’s now licking my hand. “Ack! Stop it!”

“Katniss?” Peeta sounds concerned. 

“He’s been acting really weird,” I say. 

“Weird how?”

“He won’t stop licking-” I pause to wipe the slobber off my hand. “He’s licking the moving boxes!” I burst out. 

There’s silence down the line. 

“All the boxes have slobber on them, and I’m sure it’s not good for him, but I can’t get him to stop!”

Finally, I hear something, halfway between a snort and a chuckle.

“I’m sorry,” he starts. I hear muffled laughter again. “I know it must be really annoying. But I’m just picturing it, and…” He’s laughing again. I guess it sounds absurd, thinking about it now. 

“What do I do?” I ask. 

“I’m looking it up now…” he says. “Interesting.” 

“What?”

“Apparently pugs just do this sometimes. Normally they lick a wall or the floor, not cardboard. Leave it to Kingsley to be extra weird.”

I hear the smile in his voice. 

“Any idea why he’s doing it?” I ask. 

Peeta hums, probably looking through the articles because he pauses before answering.

“Seems like there’s a few reasons, but knowing Kingsley, he just wants attention.” 

I manage a strangled snort. Of course he does. It’s strangely comforting to have some kind of reason, even if it just confirms that Kingsley is a drama queen. 

“Perhaps you could spray something on the area? Maybe some vinegar or lime juice?” he asks.

“I can do that.”

“I’m sorry he’s such a handful,” says Peeta, sounding genuinely regretful. “Believe me, I’d rather be there with him right now.”

“S’ok,” I mumble. “How’s the family?”

“They’re fine,” he says. “Thanks again. Let me know if you need anything else.” 

I want to keep talking to him, but it sounds like he’s ready to sign off, and I need to find something for the boxes. 

“Okay,” I say. “I’ll let you know.”

“Seriously, don’t hesitate to call,” he says. “If I’m stuck with my family too long, I’ll start licking the walls.” 

The image is so ridiculous that I can’t help but laugh. 

“Please don’t,” I say. “I can’t deal with both of you doing that.”

He laughs. A voice from his side calls his name.

“I’ll let you go,” I say.

“Good luck.” 

When I get off the phone, I grab vinegar and sprinkle it lightly on each box. Kingsley tries licking them, and to my relief, he finally stops. He pouts, settling down next to Hunter on the rug, while fixing me with a stubborn gaze.

“Ha,” I say, but my victory is short lived. 

The smell of vinegar is positively overwhelming. I groan in frustration. 

In hindsight, this probably wasn’t the best idea. My boxes are soaked and smelly. This has to end, and there’s only one way to make sure it does.

I pull the first box towards me and slice it open with box cutters. 

The contents of the box are a jumbled mess. I collect all the books and shove them onto the bookshelf, then throw the clothes into a pile. Some part of me is cracking, just a bit, but I think I’m going to be fine as long as I move fast.

That’s when I make it to the bottom of the box.

A worn blue dog leash sits in a small coil. I hold it, staring without seeing. Hunter trots over and sniffs at it, his tail wagging. 

I throw the leash back in the box, but Hunter starts barking. This was the first leash that we purchased, right after Gale and I found Kingsley at the pound. Gale always favored it for walks, and I wonder if it smells like him. Kingsley circles around the box, pawing at it.

“No barking, Hunter,” I say sternly, but my voice cracks. He barks again.

“No!” I shout. Hunter looks at me with worried eyes. He lays down beside me, head low, knowing that he did something wrong but not sure what. I feel guilty for yelling at him. After all, I know he misses home, too. 

“I’m sorry,” I say, and then I burst into tears.

I throw my arms around Hunter, burying my face in his dark fur, and he sits patiently as my tears stain his coat. 

Kingsley crawls onto my lap. I run my hand over his back, his short hair soft under my fingertips. He’s warm, and blessedly quiet for once. The apartment is silent except for my snuffling, and the breathing of the dogs. 

I thought leaving would be easier than this. But I underestimated the weight of loneliness, of how it would burrow into my heart. This time last year, Prim and I procrastinated on wrapping presents by watching Hallmark movies, until Gale hauled us both into the dining room to get started. Gale left around midnight, then Prim went to bed, but even though I was the last one wrapping until late into the evening, I didn’t feel alone. 

It’s snowing outside, and for some time I watch it, wiping at the tears that drip down my face. 

The place is so silent that I hear my phone when it vibrates on the kitchen counter. I gently lift up Kingsley, then unfold myself from the floor. 

I see a text from Peeta. 

_How’s it going?_

_Fine,_ I type back. I run my sleeve over my face. _How’s the party?_

_Is Kingsley behaving himself?_

I glance at Kingsley, who is obsessively licking Hunter on the snout. Both of them are snuggled on the rug in front of the fireplace, looking cozy. I take a photo and send it to Peeta. He texts back three smiley faces with heart eyes.

 _He’s not so bad. Just give me some more cheese buns and we’re even_.

 _I can do better than that_ he responds.

I’m trying to picture what sort of pastry would be better than a cheese bun when a second message appears.

Peeta sends a selfie of him smiling into the camera, with a crowd of people seated at a table behind him. They must be his family, with their blond hair and smiling eyes. 

It makes me miss my sister so much that it’s like a blast of cold air.

 _Looks fun_ I reply. Dots appear that signify that he’s typing, but the text doesn’t come through. I figure he’s been pulled back into the party when a text appears.

_Trust me, I’d rather be there with you._

It would be one thing to say, “I’d rather be there,” because he could mean just back in the city. But at the “with you” I have to wonder if that’s all he means. Peeta’s so warm and kind it could easily be casual. I frown at the screen.

An image flashes through my mind of him in the apartment, us tangled on the couch as the dogs sleep on the rug. I imagine his arms around me, and for a moment I feel warm, like the feeling that spreads through my chest when I drink hot chocolate on a cold day. But I push the image away. 

_When are you coming back?_

_The day after Christmas. I can stop by to grab him then if that’s all right? Sorry to have dropped him on you like that._

This appears to have been the wrong thing to say. I can see that he’s typing another text. I quickly write back before he can keep apologizing. 

_It’s no problem. As long as I don’t have to clean any face wrinkles._

Soon as I send the text, I mentally kick myself. I didn’t mean to bring up the face wrinkles.

 _Maybe when you're back we can_ … I type, then erase the text.

 _I’ll be glad to see you again_ I finally send. Instantly, I regret it. It’s too emotional. I see that he’s typing, and I panic.

 _I need more cheese buns_ I add. 

There. Now it’s not weird.

 _I’ll give you 100 cheese buns for putting up with Kingsley_ he responds. _And I’ll be glad to see you again, too._

I smile stupidly at the text, warmth spreading through my chest. Kingsley pants at me from where he’s sitting on top of my pile of unpacked clothes. I sigh.

I scrub my hand against my face, then eat one of the pastries from Peeta for strength. I coax Kingsley off the clothes and settle him into his dog bed. There’s more boxes to unpack, and the vinegar scent still hangs in the air, and this has to be the weirdest Christmas Eve I’ve ever had, but somehow I feel lighter as I pull a new box towards me. 

“All right,” I say to the dogs. “Time to unpack.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my betas, endlessnightlock and 2ee, for their continual support, kind feedback, and insight. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone for reading!! Your comments and kudos are seriously motivating. 
> 
> Next chapter update: I'm now working to post it on March 31. See you after the little break :D


	8. Gift Exchange

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s been seven chapters and they haven’t even kissed yet?!

I awake on Christmas morning when winter sunlight streams in from the window. I reach for a quilt to block out the light, but instead of a blanket my hand catches air. The scratchy fabric of my pillow confuses me, until I realize I’m not in my bed, but curled up on my living room couch. I lazily stretch, in no hurry to rush, and push my hair away from my eyes. 

The living room looks ten times better than last night. My collection of botany books are lined up on the shelf, and my hats are hung neatly by the door. I even found the Christmas duck sweater, which I put on last night before falling asleep. Kingsley is snoring, curled on top of my feet, while Hunter is lying on the rug next to me. I give him a pat, and I wonder when exactly this place started to feel like home. 

The doorbell rings, and both dogs go berserk, Hunter’s barks mingling with Kingsley’s whines as they jump up. I’m not expecting any deliveries. I ordered Peeta’s present last week and it already arrived. I yawn and ignore it. 

I’m about to call the dogs when I hear my sister’s voice.

“Katniss!”

I’m at the door in seconds. When I swing it open, there stands my sister with a huge grin on her face, and my mom, smiling gently, holding two grocery bags. Prim launches herself into my arms. I hug her tight.

“What are you doing here?” I ask in bewilderment. The sight of them in my apartment is almost unreal. Hunter has lost his mind with happiness as he jumps around and licks my mom’s hand while she tries to pat him. I would say Kingsley has lost his mind too, except I’m not sure he had one to begin with; he races in circles around all of us. 

“We couldn’t leave you alone on Christmas,” Prim says, laughing. 

In some ways she’s the same old Prim, wearing her silly Christmas duck sweater, her hair in a long plait. But there are touches of her new life: the silver wristwatch, the stylish boots that she kicks off at the door. My mom looks the same as always in her faded floral dress that’s seen many days in the garden and her blonde hair in a loose bun. 

Prim’s eyes land on my sweater.

“You found it!” Prim gives me another hug. I laugh.

“You look like twins,” my mother chimes in. This couldn’t be further from the truth, as Prim is a good six inches shorter than me. But we do match, with our sweaters and braided hair.

As I embrace my mother, Prim scoops up Kingsley, nuzzling his squishy face against hers. He licks her on the cheek, delighted to be getting attention. 

“What a nice apartment,” says my mother, which is diplomatic of her. Even though it looks better than last night, there’s a pile of shirts on the ground, and pots piled high on the kitchen counter. 

At least I threw out all of the cardboard boxes before falling asleep, and the living room no longer reeks of vinegar. 

I spot the tail end of Prim’s braid as she disappears into my room, still clutching Kingsley.

“Is this all yours? Do you have any roommates?” she shouts.

“Just me,” I call back. My mom sets down the grocery bags on the kitchen counter. 

“What’s all this?” I say. The smell of turkey is wafting through the air, and my stomach grumbles. Hunter sniffs curiously at the counter until I shoo him away. 

“We didn’t want to put you out,” she replies. 

It’s a good thing, because all I have left are a few frozen dinners, and an almost empty box of Peeta’s pastries. I help her unload, putting away asparagus and cranberries and more champagne than I can possibly imagine us drinking. It strikes me how different the fridge looks with real food inside of it.

Prim emerges from my room. 

“I can’t believe you adopted a dog and didn’t tell me!” 

“He’s not mine,” I say. “I’m dog-sitting for my friend, Peeta.” 

Prim sets Kingsley down, which may have been a mistake because he sprints to the counter and starts whining for turkey.

“How long are you off work?” I ask Prim, who settles on the barstool.

“Just a few days. Can we stay the night?” she asks.

“Prim,” my mother admonishes. “We don’t want to impose.” 

“I brought my toothbrush,” Prim says, ignoring her. 

“Of course,” I say. I take pity on Kingsley, who’s now whining at my feet, and toss him a piece of turkey. When he catches it, he looks as happy as I feel. 

_________________

“So, have you finished unpacking?” Prim asks sometime later, when we’re all sitting shoulder to shoulder on the couch, since I don’t have any other chairs. 

“Just about,” I reply.

“Really?” Prim looks around in surprise.

“Yeah…” 

“But where’s your stuff?” she asks. 

Now that my living room is cleaned up, it basically consists of a small couch, a bookshelf, and a ton of Kingsley’s toys. I haven’t exactly gotten to decorating. 

My mom is studiously drinking her tea. I know that silence too well.

“What?” I ask. “What do you think?”

“Well…” she says. “Maybe a nice plant would spruce things up.”

I roll my eyes. I don’t need a plant. 

“Let’s go shopping! We can get you some furniture,” says Prim. “As a housewarming gift,” she adds, under my glare.

“Isn’t it sacrilegious to shop on Christmas?” I ask. 

Prim ignores me, whipping out her phone. 

Come to think of it, an extra chair would be useful, especially now that I have guests. Even if they’re kind of rude.

“Found something!” She hops up from the couch, pulling me up with her. “There’s a place that’s open on Capitol Street.”

Prim leads us into the cold. By the time my nose has started to freeze, we arrive at a small antique store that I must have passed a dozen times on the way to the dog park. 

My sister coos over an overstuffed teal armchair and a maple coffee table, and I pick out a forest green rug. Once we’ve hauled everything to the cashier, my mom pays, which is completely unexpected. When I thank her, she gives my arm a small squeeze.

It takes the rest of the afternoon to arrange the furniture. After dinner, Prim announces the décor is finally to her satisfaction. We inflate the air mattress and watch a Hallmark movie until Prim falls asleep. I cover her in a quilt before heading to my room.

In bed, I pull the quilt up to my chin. I smile at the ceiling, remembering Prim laughing at the movie and my mother’s insistence at buying the furniture. But at the back of my mind, I can’t shake the thought that they’ll be leaving soon. 

Prim’s snoring can be heard through the wall, just like in the days when our rooms where side by side. I’m sure I’ll find it annoying in a few minutes, but for now I appreciate the reminder that my sister is here.

On the bedside table, my phone lights up with a text from Peeta. 

_I'll pick up Kingsley tomorrow. Hope he isn’t driving you crazy!_

I’d forgotten he was coming back so soon, or rather, that Kingsley would be leaving so quickly. I don’t know how I’ll break the news to Prim. 

_No problem,_ I text back. _Come by anytime._

 _Didn’t think you would still be awake_ , he responds. _Sorry to disturb you._

 _I’ll be up for a while_. It’s the truth, especially now that I’m thinking about how I really don’t want Prim to leave. 

_Same here_ he writes.

The phone goes dark. It’s late, and I should sleep, and Peeta is probably in bed or busy. But I haven’t given him an update about Kingsley since the box-licking fiasco. He’ll appreciate knowing everything is fine. I grab my phone. 

_Do you mind if I call?_ I text.

I don’t have to wait for a text back. My phone starts ringing almost immediately. 

“Hey,” Peeta says, a smile in his voice. “How are you?”

“Kingsley finally stopped licking the boxes,” I say.

“I wish I’d been there to see it.” His voice sounds sleepy and warm, and I imagine him lying in bed, about to turn off the light. “The real question is, have you eaten all the pastries?”

The answer is yes, although I’m not about to admit it. 

“It’s possible,” I say evenly.

He laughs. I wrap another blanket around my shoulders. 

“I’ll bake more,” he replies.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Okay,” he agrees, far too quickly. I smile, knowing he’s already made up his mind.

I glance at Peeta’s Christmas present, which is sitting on my dresser. I’ll wrap it tomorrow before he arrives. 

It’ll be a lot quieter here when Kingsley leaves. My sister and mother will depart soon after, leaving myself, Hunter, and a lot of empty silence. But knowing that Peeta will still be here makes me realize how lucky I am that we’re friends. 

“Thank you,” I say.

“For what?” he asks. “I should be the one thanking you.”

“Just…for being nice to me.” Outside my window, the snowflakes fall gently like feathers from a pillow. “The move has been…” 

I don’t finish the sentence, and he doesn’t push. 

“I’m actually really glad you called. I wanted to tell you something,” he says quietly, and my chest tightens. 

“What’s that?” 

There’s a pause, and in the quiet, it’s like I’m peering over the edge of a cliff, trying to keep my footing.

But Peeta’s words, instead of pushing me over the edge, pull me back to safety. 

“Just wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas.” 

“Merry Christmas, Peeta,” I reply.

There’s silence for a moment, but it’s comfortable, like slipping on a favorite sweater. We hang up soon after, and as I drift off to sleep, I look forward to the sunrise.

_________________

The next morning, Prim wakes me by gently tossing Kingsley on my bed before bouncing on it herself, until I’m forced to get up. My mom makes coffee while Prim and I attempt to fix a post-Christmas brunch. Prim starts mixing the pancake batter, and I’m setting scones onto a baking tray when the doorbell rings. 

I tuck a stray hair behind my ear and straighten my sweater. When I open the door, Peeta smiles brightly at me. He’s wearing a deep green sweater that brings out his blue eyes, and he’s smiling like we’re being reunited after weeks, not days. I’m not the only one happy to see him. Kingsley zooms by me and starts racing around Peeta’s feet. 

Peeta scoops up Kingsley with one hand, then hugs me with the other.

“Hey! Merry Christmas,” he says, his breath warm on my neck. 

“Katniss, how do you bake anything here? I think the oven is broken—” Prim strides up to me, my mom trailing behind. They both stop when they see Peeta.

“Mom, Prim, this is Peeta,” I say. 

“What’s this?” teases Prim. “First the secret pug, now a secret boyfriend?” She puts her hands on her hips in mock annoyance.

“He’s not my—”

“We’re not—”

Peeta and I both break off. I curse the flush beginning to rise on my neck. 

“Peeta’s just picking up Kingsley,” I explain. “You know he’s not my dog,” I add, swatting Prim’s arm for good measure. Kingsley whines in Peeta’s arms. Peeta puts him down, only to have him run to Prim’s feet and stare at her with his big eyes. 

“She’s just teasing,” my mom says, and I think there may be hope for the situation, until she adds: “It’s always nice to meet one of Katniss’…friends.” 

Prim grins. I scowl. 

“You guys are impossible,” I mutter. 

Peeta doesn’t seem fazed, instead, he’s smiling at both of them like he’s in on the joke. 

“It’s nice to meet you both,” he says. 

“Boyfriend or not, you can’t take Kingsley,” says Prim, picking up the pug. Kingsley, overjoyed, immediately starts to lick her cheek. 

“I’d hate to part you, but I can’t impose on Katniss any longer.” 

Prim looks like she’s about to protest, but my mom gives her a look.

“We have pancakes on the stove,” my mom reminds us. 

“Okay, okay.” Prim regretfully sets Kingsley down. “But we have to fix the oven.” 

“What’s wrong with the oven?” Peeta asks.

“I thought I turned it on, but it’s not even hot yet.” Prim pouts. “It’s been ten minutes!”

“Mind if I take a look?” Peeta glances at me, but Prim grabs his arm, leading him to the kitchen without a backward glance. 

Peeta not only fixes the oven, but offers to help with brunch, and soon Prim has him on pancake flipping duty. As soon as he’s occupied by the stove, Prim grabs my arm and drags me into my room.

“So _that’s_ Peeta?” Prim’s eyebrows disappear into her bangs. 

“Yes.” 

“I thought he was a girl!” She turns to me accusingly. “You didn’t tell me that first, he’s a guy, and second, he looks like that!”

Now she’s peeking back out at the kitchen. I sigh.

“We’re friends,” I say, mustering a bored tone. “As we’ve established.” 

“Uh-huh,” she says, not even looking at me, just watching as he flips pancakes, his movements quick and sure. 

I grab her by the elbow and march her back into the kitchen. My apartment isn’t exactly large, and the last thing I want is for Peeta to hear us whispering about him.

I busy Prim with setting the new coffee table, before grabbing a plate and joining Peeta at the stove.

“Sorry Prim dragged you into this,” I say. “Will you stay?”

He piles pancakes onto the plate.

“That would be great, as long as I’m not imposing.” 

“It’s not an imposition,” I protest. 

“It’s really okay. I know time with your family is precious,” he adds as he drops the last pancakes on the considerably tall stack. 

I can’t imagine forcing Peeta to fix the oven and cook pancakes and them shooing him out of the house. Besides, I find that I don’t really want him to leave.

“I hope you’ll stay,” I say. 

“Then I will.”

Peeta and I settle on the floor while mom and Prim take the couch and armchair, and for a while there’s silence as we dig in. 

“How was your trip?” I ask Peeta.

“Good,” he says, leaning over to pour me some more orange juice. I ignore the look that Prim shoots me from across the coffee table.

“Did you miss Kingsley?”

“Let’s just say, I got here as soon as I could,” he replies. His whole face lights up as he smiles at me, his gaze lingering before my mom breaks in. 

“These pancakes are great,” she says. 

“Really good,” I agree. Peeta smiles down at his plate, a stray curl falling over his forehead. 

“Do you remember those mincemeat pies we had last Christmas?” says Prim. “Those were so good.”

“You like mincemeat?” asks Peeta.

“We didn’t make them,” adds my mom. “Wasn’t it Gale who brought them over?”

My mom turns to me expectantly. I don’t want to think about Gale, and I especially don’t want to talk about him right now. The silence stretches an uncomfortable amount of time, until I swallow and force myself to return my mom’s gaze.

“Yeah,” I mumble, pushing some scrambled eggs around my plate. Peeta is looking at me, so I plaster on a smile. 

“I like pancakes much better,” Prim says. 

“Definitely,” I agree, and Peeta gives me a small smile. 

The thought of Gale distracts me as we finish brunch. It’s weird to think that this time last year we were friends, and now we’re just…not. I never used to go a week without talking, but now, I wouldn’t even know what to say. 

Luckily, Prim is full of stories from her work at the bank, so I don’t have to talk much. 

When the last of the pancakes have disappeared, Peeta suggests a walk.

“Any takers?” He looks around at all of us. “I should take Kingsley out.”

“Sure,” I agree.

“It’s a bit chilly,” my mom says. “I’ll get started on the dishes. Prim will help,” she adds.

To my surprise, Prim doesn’t protest, instead jumping up to collect everyone’s plates. Peeta helps me off the floor, his hands warm on mine. I shrug on my parka and grab Peeta’s Christmas present from the bedroom to give him while we are away from my family’s prying eyes. 

I put the harness on Hunter and Peeta grabs Kingsley, and the four of us head outside. Peeta stops by his car to grab a large bag with what looks like a box inside. Curiosity pulls at me. It seems like he had the same idea about gifts.

Soon we’re headed in the same direction, not needing to speak about where we’re going.

“I finished your Christmas present,” Peeta says as our boots crunch through the snow. 

“You weren’t supposed to get me anything,” I protest. “You already gave me all those pastries.”

“But I also gave you Kingsley at the last minute,” he shoots back. 

“It wasn’t so bad. And you definitely don’t owe me,” I say.

“It’s not about owing,” he says. 

The empty field of the dog park is covered in snow. Both dogs go running, leaving deep footprints, as we settle onto our park bench. 

“Well, I did get you something,” I say, handing the present to Peeta.

He slowly unwraps the package, smiling when he sees what’s inside.

Inside is an apron with a Kingsley’s face on it. I customized it using a picture of Kingsley I took on the sly, and it seemed like just the sort of thing Peeta might like. He holds the apron up against his chest, beaming at me. 

“It’s perfect. Thank you.” Peeta puts the sweater down, then opens the bag he carried to the park. He hands me a large box, beautifully wrapped in silver paper. 

“Open it?” 

I gently pull back the paper to find a small canvas painting, a little larger than a notebook.

I almost gasp at how real it looks, except I’ve never seen myself look like that before. I’m kneeling next to Hunter, one hand on his back, and my eyes have this look of serenity in them, a soft smile on my lips. 

“I hope you like it,” says Peeta.

“It’s…” The stupid painting is going to make me tear up. I nod a lot, and sniff. The Katniss in the painting is beautiful, with dark shiny hair. “But I think you did my portrait some favors.” 

“No,” he says, leaning back to squint at me and then at the painting. “That’s how you look to me.”

“It’s great,” I manage. 

He smiles, soft and slow, and we’re so close that I can count the freckles on his nose. This Christmas day has been wonderful, far beyond what I expected today would be.

Peeta has been more than I expected, too. My apartment is strewn with symbols of his kindness: the dog toy he bought to keep Hunter busy while I was at work, the pastries he sent home with me just a few days ago. Now I’ll have this beautiful painting, a reminder of how lucky I am. 

He has this kind expression in his eyes, and before I can think about it, I lean in and press my lips to his. He inhales sharply, but presses towards me, his mouth warm. I bury my hand in his hair, and he cups my jaw ever so gently. 

Kingsley barks, which makes me jump. I catch my breath as we separate. Peeta’s face is flushed, his hair tousled. 

“We should have brunch more often,” he says. I laugh before reaching for him again. 

It takes a few more kisses before we collect ourselves, and Peeta insists on walking me home. The way back to my apartment seems to take much less time than our stroll to the park. 

Snow begins to fall, and I know I should get Hunter inside soon, but I lean in for one last kiss. I ignore the snowflakes that land on my cheeks – I’m much too focused on Peeta’s lips as they move against mine. 

When I open my eyes, snowflakes are tangled in Peeta’s eyelashes.

“I’ll see you soon?” he asks.

“Soon,” I reply. I ruffle Kingsley’s short fur, and his pink tongue shoots out to lick my glove. 

“Bye, Katniss.” Peeta bundles Kingsley inside his car, and I wave as they leave. 

My mom is sitting by the window as I walk up to the steps to the apartment, but if she saw us kissing, she makes no comment on it once I’m inside. 

“Did you have a good walk?” she asks mildly. 

“It wasn’t too cold, for once.” 

Mom hands me a cup of hot chocolate, and Prim drags me to the couch to watch another movie, and if there was another moment I’d ask Peeta to paint it would be this one. I couldn’t ask for anything more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you to my luminous betas, endlessnightlock and 2ee.
> 
> For now, I don't have a target date set for publishing of the next chapter. I have plans for a Chapter 9 and 10, but I don't want to give you wonderful readers a date only to have to delay it again. Check back here or on my tumblr (username: creamytinydays) for timing updates.
> 
> Let me know if you enjoyed this chapter! I appreciate every kudo and comment :)


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